


check off all the clichés

by nobodysusername



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom Castiel, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, hipster!Dean, punk!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:59:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1354900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobodysusername/pseuds/nobodysusername
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s dressed in tight black jeans that excellently hug the curve of his ass, and combat boots. A form fitting army green shirt that perfectly flatters his great form. He’s obviously a god, Dean thinks. A really hot, punk rock god.</p>
            </blockquote>





	check off all the clichés

The guy’s bright azure eyes are only highlighted by the smoky smudge of eyeliner around them, giving him a look akin to that of a raccoon. Somehow, it works on him.

He’s dressed in tight black jeans that excellently hug the curve of his ass, and combat boots. A form fitting army green shirt that perfectly flatters his great form. He’s obviously a god, Dean thinks. A really hot, punk rock god.

He’s the most attractive person at the party, in Dean’s opinion. Hiding near the doorway to the hall, ready to bolt for the front door as soon as the police arrive. But he’s leaning against the wall casually, smoking, so he must not be anxious.

Dean kind of wants to talk to him. He also knows he shouldn’t, “if he knows what’s good for him;” those words being a direct quote from Victor, who’s probably the smartest kid in their grade, and who Dean had been crushing on all of sophomore year.

Dean’s crush ending had also marked the ending of his good decision making, according to what he’d been up to last year and into senior year. Take, for example, his decision to come to Ash’s party.

At least the beer doesn’t taste completely like piss, he reasons. And he’s successfully convinced Ash to play some decent music, too—alternative songs yet to hit radios, instead of the synth pop bullshit that’d been filling Dean’s mind with thoughts of murder for the past hour.

The punk rock god, who Dean knows is named Castiel, is watching him now. Fuck, he’s been caught. Staring. Way to be creepy, Winchester.

He gestures for Dean to come forward, to join him past the crowd. Damn, that’s tempting. Dean makes his way through the throbbing masses of people, narrowly avoiding being grinded into by an all too drunk Meg Masters on his way.

Castiel is smirking when Dean finally reaches him. “Surprised you managed to dodge Meg,” he tells Dean, his voice a rough timber that sounds like sex. Dean rolls his eyes and smirks at Castiel.

“You shouldn’t be. I happen to be very skilled in the art of being evasive.”

“Is that how you avoided being caught staring?” Castiel teases him, raising an eyebrow. Dean blushes.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters. “Even pros make mistakes.” He leans against the wall beside Castiel, taking a sip of his beer. “My name’s Dean, by the way.”

“Nice name,” Castiel hums back. “I’m Castiel.” Dean swallows down the “I know” on his tongue and nods instead. “So, Dean, what’re you here for tonight? You don’t seem like a partier. Looking for the booze? The girls? The boys, maybe?” He grins wolfishly at Dean.

“Nah, none of that,” Dean answers easily. “Ash invited me, didn’t have an excuse not to come, so here I am.”

“Ah,” Castiel turns to face Dean, looking at him owlishly. His eyes are gorgeous. “Have you ever stopped traffic with those pants?” He’s referring to the vibrancy of Dean’s jeans; they’re teal.

“Ha, hardly. They did help me get my last girlfriend, though. Chicks dig us alternative singers, you know.”

Castiel nods his approval. “Guys dig the punk look,” he answers, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Dean watches, fascinated, as the tendrils of smoke seep from Castiel’s mouth as he exhales.

“Is that why you do it?” he asks curiously.

“If only,” Castiel laughs. “No, I like this style because it’s a nice fuck you to my family. My father is a powerful businessman. Michael Novak, you probably know him. He’s a dick and he screws over good people. Nothing ruins his reputation like a son that wears eyeliner and likes taking it up the ass, right?”

Castiel’s bluntness is somehow refreshing. Dean grins at him. “I like that,” he tells Castiel honestly. “Stick it to the man, right?”

“Right,” Castiel agrees. “So you didn’t come for a good lay, I guess I shouldn’t bother trying to seduce you. Bummer.”

“Just because I wasn’t planning on fucking anyone doesn’t mean I wouldn’t,” Dean flirts teasingly. “Giving up just like that isn’t very hardcore of you.”

Castiel nudges Dean’s ankle with the toe of his boot. “Guess you’re right. If you can’t walk the walk, you shouldn’t talk the talk, or whatever.”

“Exactly. Now go ahead and seduce me, big boy.”

Castiel laughs at Dean’s taunting words. “Oh, god, please never say that again,” he huffs out, grinding out his cigarette on the stone kitchen counter beside him. “Smoking is gross,” he mutters. “Bet you taste a lot better.”

“Only one way to find out,” Dean says back, winking. Castiel rolls his eyes but takes his hand and leads him to the hallway.

“Ash mentioned something about a guest bedroom. Perhaps we should explore.” He smiles at Dean, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Dean likes the sound of that.

They find the guest bedroom easily enough, fumbling to turn the light on as they open the door and stumble inside. Cas—when did Dean start calling him that in his head?—leads the way to the bed, falling back on it and pulling Dean on top of him, grinning cockily as he does so. “Impress me,” he says huskily, mocking. Dean shoves his shoulder playfully, then tugs up the hem of his shirt until Castiel lifts his arms, allowing the other man to pull it off and toss it aside.

“Don’t think I won’t,” Dean answers, immediately dropping to nimbly undo Castiel’s jeans, tugging them down and shifting down until he’s got them completely unzipped and he’s started to pull them off. He can see the bulge in Castiel’s boxers and he looks up to smirk, smug. “See? Looks like I already have.” He palms Castiel through the thin fabric of his boxers, eliciting a moan from the brunet.

“Fuck, Dean, why aren’t you naked?” he groans out, leaning back into the mattress and arching slightly. Dean takes the hint, pulling away so he can yank off his own shirt and shuck his jeans, discarding his boxers as well. He slips fingers under Castiel’s, tugging them down and then tossing them away as well. Castiel bites his lip, looking up at Dean with wide eyes, daring him to do something.

“You know, for someone who makes extra effort to look tough, you seem pretty eager to submit and let me do the work,” Dean remarked, bending down to mouth along Castiel’s neck. He begins working on sucking a mark at his collarbone, Cas panting out a response.

“I— _ah_ , Dean! I’m trying to f-fight stereotypes,” he gasps out, bringing a hand to grip Dean’s short hair firmly. “For such a twink, you sure know how to dominate, huh?” he manages, huffing a laugh. Dean rolls his eyes and moves up to nip at Castiel’s ear.

“Why d’you think I’m a twink? ‘Cause I can pull off bright pants?” Dean drops lower, letting his teeth graze Castiel’s nipple. The other man lets out a soft cry. “You’re wrong,” he mutters against Castiel’s chest, running a hand down the other boy’s side until his thumb is tracing the jut of a hipbone. He’s been carefully avoiding anywhere near Castiel’s dick up until now.

He’s hard, precome already beading at the slit of his cock that makes Dean smirk up at him once more. “I can’t believe I’m having a one night stand with a punk rock god,” he says to Cas. “And I’m topping. This is one kinky fantasy, I’ll give it that.”

Castiel lifts his head from the pillow just enough to look down at Dean and glare. “You suck,” he says, mock annoyed.

Dean laughs back. “You wish. –You have any lube?”

Castiel grunts a confirmation. “Back pocket of my jeans,” he informs Dean, who shakes his head and sighs back.

“Should’ve mentioned that when we were stripping.” He pulls away and leans off the edge of the bed, pulling Castiel’s pants from the floor and rummaging through them until he finds a packet of lube as well as an unopened condom packet in one pocket. “You were planning on getting laid all along, huh?” he teases.

“I was optimistic,” he answers, biting back a smile. Dean grins back at him as he tears the condom packet open with his teeth.

He rolls the condom onto himself then goes to the lube packet, tearing it open and squeezing some out onto his fingers. “Sure this is enough?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Cas scowls back at him. “Who cares? Hurry up,” he answers petulantly, prompting another chuckle from Dean, who obeys. He spreads some over his fingers, kneeling between Cas’ legs and parting them further, better exposing Cas’ entrance. Dean shifts a bit, hiking one of Castiel’s legs up and hooking it around his side. Castiel shifts his hips up and it reminds Dean that this position could leave him sore in places other than his ass, so Dean reaches with his free, non-slippery hand and grabs a pillow, shoving it under Cas’ back.

“You good?” he asks, and Cas rolls his eyes, huffing again.

“Hurry the fuck up, will you?” His urging elicits another laugh from Dean, who nods again and pushes a slicked up finger into Cas slowly. Castiel’s jaw goes slack and he lets out a soft breath. Dean keeps going until he’s knuckle deep, then begins to crook his finger around, attempting to stretch Cas better from inside. He’s encouraged by the breathless plea for more that escapes Castiel’s parted lips. He pulls out just enough to add a second finger, going slow until they’re both all the way in and then scissoring them apart good a few times. At the feeling of Castiel’s nails digging into the flesh of his shoulder, he works in a third, spreading them inside Cas. “Shit, Dean,” Castiel manages, breathless, “I’m ready. I’m ready.”

Dean looks Castiel over, mulling over whether he believes the other man’s words. After a moment of deliberation, he grins down at Cas. “Good,” he answers perkily. He finds the opened lube packet nearby and squeezes out the rest of it over his fingers, slicking it on his own erection and then around Castiel’s rim for good measure. He braces himself against Cas, one hand falling to grip at the other’s hip as he guides his cock to Cas’ entrance, the head pushing in slowly. Dean hears Cas take in a sharp breath as he pushes further, and he strokes his thumb along Cas’ hip again. “You still good?” he asks, pausing.

“This isn’t—my first rodeo,” Castiel answers with a smirk, pushing his hips down and forcing Dean’s cock further into him. Dean moans involuntarily, eyes falling closed, before he determinedly pushes further, slowly pushing in until he’s bottomed out. They’re both still for a moment, adjusting, until Castiel looks up at Dean from under thick lashes and whines, “ _move_ , Dean.”

Dean slides out a bit, rocking back into Cas and repeating the motion a few times so they can both find a good rhythm. Then he’s pulling almost all the way out, slamming back into Cas with force and changing the angle just enough to be certain he’s hitting Castiel’s prostate almost every time, causing the other man to cry out and pant blasphemies, trembling as he pushes down on Dean’s cock.

Castiel is leaking on his stomach, already reduced to a shaking mess of a person, eyes screwed shut; it’s gorgeous, Dean thinks, _Cas is gorgeous_. His eyeliner is smudged and his chest is heaving as he gasps for breath, Dean fucking into him ruthlessly, but he takes it like a pro and he’s still doing his best to keep on a smug grin whenever he’s not crying out, pleading for _more, harder_.

Dean reaches for Castiel’s cock finally and wraps a loose fist around it, stroking his length slowly a few times and then in time with his thrusts, and the sight of Castiel alone—eyes wide with wonder as Dean works him just so—is almost enough to make him come.

Castiel’s orgasm hits suddenly and he shouts, come spilling over Dean’s hand and Castiel’s stomach, some of it reaching his chest. Dean keeps pounding into him roughly, selfishly but Cas doesn’t seem to mind, until his orgasm rushes over him like a tidal wave and he comes, too.

He lays, draped over Cas, for a few minutes as he catches his breath. Then he reluctantly slides out and pulls off the condom, tying it up and tossing it in the trash can beside the bed. Thank god there are tissues on the nightstand. This is a nice guest room; Ash’s family must have good taste.

Dean grabs a few and stoops over Cas, wiping up the other man’s come and wadding up the tissues to toss away as well. Castiel pulls him in for a languid kiss just as he begins to move away, and the moment draws out in the best way possible.

When they part, Castiel smiles up at Dean. “Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I had a good time tonight.”

“Yeah? I’m a good lay?” Dean says it teasingly, but the way Castiel grins back says that his statement rings true.

Dean climbs off the bed and picks up the clothes, the ones that had so hastily been strewn around earlier, up from the floor, passing Castiel’s back to him and tugging on his own. “I’ve gotta get home,” he mutters. “You need a ride? Sounds like the party’s dying down.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve got a ride.” Then he glances at Dean once more. “We should do this again sometime,” he says quietly.

Dean goes for the door, pulling it open just as Cas finishes tugging on his shirt. “I’d like that,” he agrees. He would.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally on tumblr and I figured it's long enough to put up here; I've been really inactive lately ;;; I'm sorry!!


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